Sunday 25th August

I've been so tirelessly bored these past few weeks that lying face down in the dew smeared grass, listening to the planes taking off and land, has become a favourable pastime. Oh how I long to board one of them, to get out of here for just one day, from the big fat back end of this no man's conurbation, a place so devoid of cultural significance that not even the IRA can be bothered to bomb here.

'Life is boring, accept it,' Mother's eyes glare from above her copy of The Guardian. Oh how to encourage my aspirations, dear Mother, but I don't doubt that life is boring if you insist on reading that rubbish.

Typically, as the end is fast approaching, like a tornado touching land, something exciting has only gone and happened, whipping up a frenzy in my own front yard.

Today was spent just as it was yesterday, and all the days before it, with Natasha. We were just languishing about on the kerbside outside my house, throwing stones in to the grate, when "boom", I fell in love.

And here I am, never the slightest bit so greedy as to dream it possible to love anyone other than Eddie, but it seems that such a fortune can come true. Lightening really does strike twice, and in its wake has delivered to my kerbside, the divinely magical, out of this world amazing twins, Michael and David Butterworth. Twins! And living across the road from me too for all this time. This level of luck has to be unparalleled, right?

Not only are they three years older than me, not only are they super gorgeousamundo, but the good Lord has decided that not one of them will suffice, and so he has kindly given me two. Two actual breathing, speaking, tangible men (that's right, MEN!), not merely of celluloid fiction. I can't even re-call what they look like so as to describe them to you, for I'm too dazzled. It's not that there's anything significantly different about them, no special feature to mark them out against the rest of the male population. They just had this glow, an aura omitting from under their skin and circulating like a luminous wave around their beings.

Now that I'm aware of their existence I think it's time enough to put a stop to my immature fantasies of soap stars and boy band members. Any little girl can love Robbie and Mark, but it takes a woman to love a real life man. And even more of one to love two.

How I've failed to acknowledge their existence sooner is quite the nuisance, since so much vacation time has been wasted. All these weeks spent procrastinating up and down the driveway when we could have been putting our time to good use, studying their movements, formulating an action plan of how we might possibly say 'hi'.

Monday 2nd September

The doomed day has arrived. So cruel it is since we've only just found them, but today is the last day of the hubba bubba twin watch, for tomorrow it's the start of High School.

I'm not in the least bit concerned about the significance of this landmark event anymore; it's just another rubbish day to me. Who cares if I get to wear a blazer or that I have to catch the bus to get there? I'm too distraught at the idea that we might never see them again. But the reality is how are we ever going to when they insist on attending school at somewhere as ridiculously far away as St. Leonard's. Why the moon would be closer. Plus as autumn progresses it's going to start getting dark earlier, and then that's it, six months of a dead end night time.

Wednesday 4th September

Holy moly macaroni cheese and sesame seeds! I just knew that all our hard work hanging around the bus stop, practising looking cool wasn't to go wasted, because well whaddya know, even more good luck has landed on my luckiest of lucky heads (note, I should definitely start playing the lottery as soon as I turn sixteen): Michael and David ride the same bus as me to school! So it turns out that despite St. Leonard's being a zillion miles away, the 136 stops there too and joy to my life is at last restored.

Never again shall a day be a dull one, for if one of them isn't in attendance then the other one is, and when they're together, well heaven have mercy, for wow, it's all I can do to flick from one face to the other, trying to spot the differences between their beauties. They're exactly the same, yet totally different, but one thing is certain; they're both equally as delicious as each other.

Here I was thinking that Autumn was the bleakest of times. Well not anymore, for my dark nights are now to be filled with leading roles from a high calibre menu, so many options, so little time, oh how it's making me dizzy. If only I were lucky enough to line them up and study them closely, to inspect their soft dark honeyed hair, dewy skin and beaming blue eyes.

Thursday 7th September

Michael and David are just blissfully perfect, so much that it's sometimes difficult to believe that they're real. So untouchable is their lushness that I'm confident they'd still look wonderful after a rough night spent sleeping in a bin bag; no morning breath or bogey eyes for them, just round the clock hotness.

Simultaneously they strut to the bus stop each morning, backpacks slung over their angled shoulders, always timing their arrival to coincide with when the 136 peaks its head around the corner of Town Street. Never once do they need to run flapping and flustered like the daily shopping ladies, instead descending like angels from the silver lined clouds. When it happened today I'm sure that every girl swooned, and that includes the ones who don't even like boys.

'My sister snogged them once,' Natasha informed Sarah and me as we anticipated their arrival, 'both of them.'

'No way! Both of them?'

'That's right, both of them.'

'Which one is the better kisser?'

'Dunno, she never said.'

'Which one is better looking?'

'Michael.'

'No, David is so much better looking.'

'Michael!'

'Um, it's so obviously David. Michael's nose is less fine.'

'Never mind his nose! Have you seen Michael's bum, now that is fine.'

Alas it's all academic, since neither one has ever acknowledged my existence, nor am I sure how I'll ever succeed in making this idle day dream a reality.

Damn it, why they're so nonchalant, always sauntering to take their seats at the back of the bus with the Year 12 girls. I'm convinced that there's a sign hanging above the back row, marked, "reserved for aesthetically pleasing people only". Oh how wish I could boast such a quality, or at the very least, I wish we had the courage to sit near them just once. But crossing the invisible line which forms a barrier between the upper and lower halves of the bus remains the most insurmountable challenge, and so we must continue our crusade from our far off viewing point, at the front of the bus, with only the daily shopping ladies for company.

Tuesday 12th September

Who would have dreamt it possible that morning is now the finest part of the day, the zenith of our happiness occurring between 08:00 and 08:30? Today even more so than usual, for when I stepped on to the bus, well can you believe that good fortune had so decided that I should be lucky enough to find myself standing right behind David in the queue? Oh dear Lord I got so close I could nearly touch him, and smell the sweet scent of his Lynx body spray when he lifted his arm up to reach the hand rail. I'm certain that in some subconscious way he was trying to put his arm around me; to protect me. Now all I can picture is sitting with David, wrapped up snug and safe within his caring strong arms. Heavenlicious.

Wednesday 13th September

It's a certain fact that I've never felt this wildly, madly, crazy about anyone before. My every action is now consumed by euphoria, my synapses are firing on over drive, their stimulus always pressed to go and causing an intense attraction to pulse from every inch, organ and crevice of my being, projecting me towards my target; a bulls eye of lithe muscular bodies, t-shirts clinging to tight torsos, and lips, such bee-stung kissable lips. Smokin'.

My enduring mind propels me forward through these desperate days. Every night before I sleep, I imagine what it would be like, for my lips to meet with theirs. Either Michael or David, I can't decide who I want the most. Oh how I want to kiss them both! Can you hear me God? Please, one day let me be lucky enough to enjoy such an experience, for I fear that I'll scream at the top of my lungs, and roam the streets a ravaged mad woman, if I don't get to look at them for more than ten minutes a day.

'You may as well get over it. My sister say's they've both got girlfriends.' These were not the encouraging words that I needed to hear from Natasha. 'Plus they only ever go out with models, which unfortunately Simone, you are not, and so you don't stand a chance.' Well that's it then; Why I must resign myself to my non-model, non Michael and David fate, to a life of misery and unfulfilled passion. I could punch the wall and sob, "why can't they just like me back?"